


Whatever you want

by Mathilda_Selem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attorney Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Aurors, But he's still an arse, Canonical Character Death, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco has a sad life, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Oblivious Harry, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pensieves, Ron Weasley tries to be a good friend, Ron is pretty mean, but not talking about their feelings, everyone is human, kind of, men drinking and talking, mentions of miscarriage and early childdeath, pureblood wizard history, warning: mentions of hereditary illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mathilda_Selem/pseuds/Mathilda_Selem
Summary: After his break-up with Ginny Harry is already not in a good state. When Ron decides to transfer to a different job and isn't directly accessible to support him, it's too much for him.Draco is dealing with the death of his wife, his responsibility for his son and his own illness.Ron has too many secrets and they eat him up from the inside.Everyone tries to cope with their past, but it not always in the healthiest way.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

Harry wasn’t exactly sure when it started.  
Things looked surprisingly good for him after his divorce from Ginny. His children finally got some closure after all the fighting and crying for years and after both him a Ginny moved out of the house several times and came back just to be reminded again why they didn’t work together.  
It had been a big mess but after he’d moved in for good into Ron’s small past-divorce apartment in London (Though the divorce of Harry’s two best friends had been only a fraction as messy as his own, they too had decided that Hermione fit better with someone that was willing to support her in the way she needed it.) he thought things could finally mellow down and he’d at least have some time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life now that his big dream of a life with a family like from a children’s book had train-wrecked in the most epic way. 

Living with Ron was easy too.  
Not only did he know his friend better than anyone else, Ron hadn’t tried to be a good supportive husband for years to not know every household charm they could ever need and he wouldn’t be Molly Weasley’s child he wouldn’t know how to cook in the way Harry liked it the most.  
To be honest Ron’s cooking was much better than Ginny’s who didn’t have the patience to cook for longer than fifteen minutes. Ron was better wife-material than his actual (ex)wife when it came to domestic skills...at least if you bracketed out the physical parts...Harry really didn’t want to think about that. It always made him feel a little queasy. When he mentioned it to Ron once as a joke, the redhead threatened to hex his balls off.  
Things still seemed okay when he started to go to pubs more and have some random dates. It was a nice ego boost and Harry felt like he could concentrate better on his job when he didn’t ignore his physical needs completely, like it had been with Ginny for a long time. Maybe it was also the lack of marriage related stress, however he finally managed to secure the head auror’s position he’d be working towards for years after Robard’s retired to enjoy his remaining limbs and his granddaughters growing up.

A few months after his promotion his random dates became meeting Draco Malfoy regularly.  
Draco had just lost his wife and was not ready to have a serious anything with anyone and somehow the decidedly non-romantic nature of their relationship was really relaxing.  
The attorney’s fantastic qualities in bed almost made up for him being otherwise insufferably boring.  
The guy spend his free-time reading financial magazines for fun.  
He got his underwear pressed.  
He liked Quidditch because of the financial struggle between the different clubs and because he liked being cheered on by hundreds of people. Harry would have even accepted if he’d said he liked it for the hot men on brooms...but Draco genuinely didn’t care about the game itself being fun. Even if he hadn’t been one of history's biggest knobheads in their youth...even if Draco had been a Gryffindor like him, Harry doubted that they’d have been friends in school, seeing how different their interests were.  
He wasn’t even sure he liked Draco now. He just liked getting him riled up and then have angry hate-sex. 

Harry had never really expected himself to be interested in blokes but it wasn’t a big shock either. Of course he had homosexual fantasies (it was hard not to have them, as a horny teenager sharing a dorm with Dean Thomas) before his unplanned ...uh... _thing_ with Malfoy, but he never really paid them much of a thought. Now it was a welcome change though.  
He just somehow slid into it and it seemed much more comfortable than his straight life with Ginny.  
It took him about 2 months to muster up his courage to tell his friends that he was bisexual and while Hermione seemed a little surprised though enthusiastically supportive, Ron just nodded and shrugged like he’d known that for years and had just waited for Harry figure it out for himself.  
Harry had already outgrown one closet and coming out of the other one wasn’t half as life-changing for him as it might have been for other people.  
The Weasleys and his children were okay with it, Ginny wasn’t okay with anything he was doing anyway and the rest of his friends mostly ignored it for the majority of time.  
Ron changed though.  
The redhead was unusually polite and quiet around him.  
He knocked before entering his room and made sure to always be out of the flat when Harry mentioned someone was coming over.  
And maybe this was when it started to get weird between them.  
Ron had never been very considerate towards Harry.  
He knew Harry needed his blunt honesty much more than politeness. The mutual respect build on decades of friendship and willingness to give your life for the other didn’t need superficial pleasantry.  
It was odd.

It definitively was getting weird, when on Sunday morning Harry stepped into the kitchen to find Draco and Ron sitting on opposite ends of the breakfast table. Both looked up from their respective newspaper when they heard him and the air was so cold it could almost cut you like ice.  
Harry had conveniently kept the relationship with Draco to himself, knowing that both Hermione and Ron would be not too pleased about the arrangement.  
Turned out he was Ron.  
Ron was furious.  
But he wasn’t going to give Malfoy the satisfaction to see him getting angry. Draco on the other side...was probably just still here for the entertainment. Harry could see the thinly veiled amusement twinkling behind his grey eyes and it made him want to bash his blond head against a wall. 

“It would have been nice...” said Ron in a dangerously gentle way “...if you told me when you were having guests over, Harry.” he folded his newspaper and bared his teeth in a gesture that almost resembled a smile.  
“I’m sorry, Ron. It was really spontaneous. I didn’t feel like I was fit to apparate tonight so my place was closer.” this was obviously the wrong answer because Ron lifted on eyebrow, a gesture he’d clearly acquired from his marriage with Hermione, and pursed his lips visible trying to get a reign on his temper.  
Harry padded closer and it felt oddly vulnerable to be barefoot in this situation. “Ron...please...” his friend came so abruptly to his feet that the chair slammed backwards against the heater with a loud bang towering over both Draco and Harry in all his almost 2 meters of boiling anger.  
Draco chuckled and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest and grinning broadly into Ron’s red face. The guy obviously greatly enjoyed the show and had less self-preservation instinct than a dead fish.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Weasley...I’m sure he’ll be good to you too if you’d just ask nicely...you’re used to getting hand-me-downs from your siblings after all...”  
So...Draco called Ron's best friend a slut, Ron a fairy thus insulting his masculinity, made fun of his big family especially his baby sister and of the fact that they used to be very poor. It must be a special talent to push all of Ron’s buttons at the same time.  
Ron blinked at the blond man for a moment and Harry instinctively summoned his wand from his room.  
“Draco, I think it would be in your best interest if you’d leave now.” he muttered not quite pointing the wand at the man but keeping it visible enough to be a silent threat. “It’s not the smartest move for someone like you to insult an auror in his own home.”  
“Shut up, Harry.” hissed Ron curtly and blindly grabbed his chair to sit down again. Harry saw the way Ron moved like big cat waiting to jump on his prey. Like he was in the mood to play with it. “Let the inbred boy eat with us. He probably is all alone now that his Mummy and wife died and his Daddy is in Azkaban and his inbred lonely child is off to school.” there was a coldness in his voice that Harry’d only very rarely heard at work.  
Malfoy pulled his wand out and pointed it at Ron’s chest which made Harry lift his own wand towards Draco’s temple.  
“Don’t you dare to speak about my family like that...” croaked the blond. “Don’t call me that, Weasley, I warn you, I’m gonna...”  
Ron’s icy laugh disrupted him.  
Uuuh...I’m shaking...what you gonna do, ferret? Not much you can do about your sad life, sorry sweetheart...”  
Hermione once said, that Draco was a bit like a very small dog in that he was more bark than bite. He liked to talk loud but he wasn’t actually the type who’d go for a serious conflict...it was just that he sometimes forgot that he was a small little dog because he was able to spook people when he barked loud enough.  
Ron...wasn’t like that.  
As a true auror and with the skills of a small brother who had to compete with much stronger and more experienced older siblings for his transformativ years...Ron went for what hurt his opponent the most. Without any remorse he went for Draco’s emotional balls so to speak.

“Trying to hurt me by making fun of my big family, huh? Does it make you feel better? At least my Mum didn’t lose all your siblings in childbed because they were too inbred to survive. You would have loved to have a few siblings to play with back then didn’t ya? Like the one your Mum was pregnant with during our third year? Aww...poor little inbred ferret...the only survivor...My wife didn’t lose any kids...my children don’t bear a blood disease that can kill them at any time...aww, poor little Draco all alone… wanna talk about why your wife died again? Too much incest in her blood?”  
Malfoy was through the floo before Ron had finished his last sentence.  
Ron’s cold laugh cut like a knife.  
It was scary. Usually Ron’s anger was hot and loud and quickly over. He got angry because he cared too much and erupted like a volcano and afterwards they both pretended it didn’t happen because they both sucked at apologising. Harry had rarely seen him angry without caring for the receiving end of his fury. Even culprits at work or even Malfoy in their youth didn’t get subjected with this kind of cold, passionless anger.

They tried the usual and pretend it didn’t happen. Harry was sure Ron assumed that the thing with Malfoy was a one-time thing and he really didn’t want to ever see him like this again so he would rather eat a flubberworm than tell him it was regular thing.  
Not that he actually really understood what this thing was anyway.  
Draco didn’t contact Harry for a few weeks until they finally ended up in bed together again. They didn’t talk much… the little small-talk they had up to this point was replaced with sex...Harry left Draco’s house right after they did it and made sure to be quiet so Ron didn’t hear him returning at night.  
It came out by accident though. Seamus had seen him stepping out of the door of Malfoy Manor and harmlessly asked him about it the next time they met with the boys at the Leaky Cauldron.  
Harry could feel Ron growing dangerously still beside him and closed his eyes to brace himself for the inevitable.  
“You are still seeing the ferret?” Ron spat putting his glass down with more force than needed leaving puddles of beer on the scarred wood of the pub table.  
“Ron...” Harry tried but was disrupted by Neville who looked oddly scandalised.  
“I thought you and Ron...how could you… Malfoy of all people...”  
“Neville...it’s not like that… it’s not like we’re are dating or something… it’s just sex, mate...”  
With a slam of the door Ron was gone. A couple of sickles were left behind to pay for the beer.

He wasn’t at home when Harry returned a few hours later.  
Harry checked.  
It was the first time in months he was in there. Since Ron decided to politely knock on his door Harry felt like it wasn’t his place to enter the other man’s bedroom.  
It was unusually messy. Ron had so much things. He liked collecting all kinds of stuff. Quidditch merchandise, cards, comics and (since the marriage with Hermione) books so it was normal to see the room brimming over with things. Ron was usually really proud of everything having it’s place and being very well-organised though.  
It wasn’t like Ron to let his room become so chaotic. 

In fact, though Harry had heard him several times over the weekend Ron had managed to avoid him ‘til Monday afternoon when he suddenly appeared in his office.  
There was an air of finality around him as he rounded the desk and sat on the edge of the tabletop looking down on Harry.  
“Remember when you promised me that Ginny was the right one to make you happy for the rest of your life, Harry? When you begged me to take that stupid memory vial so you wouldn’t be tempted again? No? Well. I remember and I don’t want it any more.” With distinct clunk a small flask was sat down on the table next to Harry’s tower of used tea cups.  
“You promised me that the life with Ginny was what you wanted, Harry. You didn’t keep it. You gave me this...shit and it wasn’t worth it...”  
Ron had turned his face away and Harry almost suspected he was crying. “I took you into my apartment and defended you against my brothers and made sure you had a place to regroup and be safe...and you tell me you’re into blokes like it’s some kind of bloody new discovery.” Harry wanted to touch him, do something to stop Ron from shuddering under all that emotion but something kept him glued to his chair.  
“I tried so hard, Harry.” Ron pressed out his whole body convulsing under the emotion. “I tried to be a good f...friend. I tried to be so bloody supportive...and you fuck Malfoy while I’m sleeping just on the other side of that wall. Not only that, you didn’t even feel like you needed to inform me...that I deserved to get perhaps a little warning instead of having him insult me, you and my whole family at the breakfast table.”  
Finally Harry remembered how his hands worked and he gripped Ron at the sleeve to get his attention.  
“I’m not gonna do this for another romantic pipe dream of yours again. I’m not going to watch you hurt yourself again.”  
Ron turned around to look at him and his eyes dry.  
“Does Malfoy make you happy, Harry? Do you promise me that this is what you want?”  
“Ron...I don’t want to marry him, I just like...”  
“I don’t care.”  
Which in fact was a bloody huge fuck of a lie. Ron obviously cared quite a lot. Though Harry still didn’t really understood why.  
“I don’t get why you’re so angry...yes it’s Malfoy...but it’s not like he’s doing anything wrong...I mean except of insulting people...” Harry knitted his eyebrows together and stared on his hands.  
“Why you care so much about this...it doesn’t even concern you!”  
“Is this what you want, Harry?”  
“Yes, Ron!” Harry could help but role eyes...his best mate always had a flair for drama. “He didn’t force me or something this is completely consensual, trust me.”  
Ron took the memory vial and Harry for a short moment thought he should probably try to find out was this was about, but he forgot about it just as quickly as Ron stood up. Like Harry’s last sentence was what had brought some kind of decision. He nodded decidedly and made his way to the door of Harry’s office.  
“I...you know I’ll always be your friend, Harry? You can...you can count on me when things go south even if I’m not around.”  
Ron said, the hand already on the door handle and it sounded like a farewell.  
“I promised after all.” 

The next day Harry received a letter of resignation from Ron and a letter from the Department for International Magic Defence informing him that his friend was joining the British InterWiz team in Porto.  
Crinkle, the head of the department, had tried to recruit Ron for years and the redhead had always refused, saying that his family and the aurors still needed him.  
Harry wasn’t sure if he really was okay with Ron thinking that he didn’t need him any more.  
Ron had taken a day off probably to talk with his family, especially his children and mother, about the sudden change of location. Harry felt like throwing up when he thought of not having the good influence of Ron around the department any more.

When he came home, the flat was so quiet he was sure Ron wasn’t home.  
Harry had brought some take-away from the kebab store down the street and started to eat after taking a shower.  
Rain was thundering heavy against the windows and the food felt like cardboard against the roof of his mouth.  
Following a whim he put down the barely-touched meal on the coffee table and padded towards Ron’s room.

His friend’s old Hogwarts trunk was standing prominently in the middle of the room, which showed last traces of a hasty packing.  
Quietly Harry tiptoed through the door and sat down on the bed.  
It wasn’t the first time a Weasley packed the bags on him. This one hurt much more than when his ex-wife had done it though.  
It was probably the first time in years that he cried.  
He didn’t know where he’d gone wrong and why everything had grown weird, but Ron was leaving and Harry wasn’t sure he’d survive that.


	2. Chapter 2

Ron sent regular letters. Every Saturday without a fail it came with the international mail.  
Harry got almost the same text as Hermione. He wrote of the weather, what kind of food he had and about random events in his everyday life.  
He didn’t write about work.  
As they compared them once over their lunch table the only difference between their letters was that Harry got a little extra section about an amateur Quidditch team Ron had joined in Portugal and Hermione had photos of the library of the Wizard University of Porto in it.  
It were disgustingly superficial letters and Harry hated them a little, but they were the only thing that still felt like a connection to his best mate so he always waited for the letter to arrive eagerly ripping it from the mail owl’s talon.  
Weekends were lonely.  
He sometimes met with the boys or Hermione and sometimes one of the remaining Weasley brothers bullied him to join them for Sunday roast at the Burrow but most weekends he just drank a couple of beer and stared at the newly arrived letter feeling sorry for himself until it didn’t look too desperate for him to go see Draco who’d open his door look just as lonely and equally trying to hide how happy he was to at least have someone breathing around.

They still didn’t have a lot of personal interaction other than sex much but things had calmed down a little after Harry not bringing up Draco’s family for months. They did talk a bit about their children sometimes, Albus and Draco’s son Scorpius were friends at school and the boy had mentioned Al in a couple of letter to his fathers. Draco and Scorpius seemed to have a much more loving and respectful relationship that Draco had with his own father and it was somehow fascinating to watch the this man could actually care for people.  
Once, when they sat on the balcony, hairs still wet from the after-sex shower, Draco told him that he feared his son had a crush on Albus and Harry couldn’t help but laugh a bit.  
“You got a problem with your family line being extinct?” he snorted and puffed out a cloud of glittering purple smoke from his cigarette.  
Draco got still for a while… before answering, shooting him a glance Harry suspected Malfoy didn’t even think about this possibility. The blond took a few drag from his cigarette before answering with a shrug.  
“Purebloods always marry hetero even if they’re preferring the same sex, Potter. We can’t afford having even less children in the next generation if we don’t want to die out completely.”  
He stood up from his chair and leaned over the marble railing to look into the small nightly park beneath the balcony.  
His white blond hair was standing out like a second moon in front of the dark, starless sky.  
“Having many children is preferable for families like mine but sadly the Blacks as well as the Malfoys didn’t have the best health in the last generations letting the generations grow smaller and smaller...most pureblood families have that problem sadly...except the Notts and the Weasleys of course.”  
Harry opened to mouth to comment on that but Draco seemed ignore the sound behind him and continued talking.  
“The Weasleys and Malfoys originate from neighbouring villages in Devon and in the past they married so often among each other that they were often treated as a single family by other purebloods...a lot of my ancestors have the same red hair you know...” He took a sip of his outrageously expensive whiskey.  
“Until the Weasleys noticed that every time one of their own married a Malfoy the resulting offspring was much more likely to die early than when they married into other families and Odarfilius Weasley finally publicly prohibited his daughter to marry Herstenus Malfoy and the Weasley Council of the Eldest made it a precedent for all coming Weasley generations. It really hurt the reputation of the Malfoys among the old families.“  
Draco turned around too look at him. The light from the living room emerging from the open door behind Harry’s backrest illuminated his strangely open expression.  
“Septima Malfoy who’d been already engaged with Albfrid Weasley was married off to Callus Burke instead and before she took her own life she cursed the Weasleys so that they wouldn’t be able to give birth to any girls for seven generation to remember her name and tragic loss of her love.”  
Draco put down his glass on top of the stone railing and stubbed out his cigarette.  
A short silence washed over them, while Harry tried to care a little for what the other told him.  
History always made him a little sleepy.

“So there are people like you that marry out of love, huh.” Harry muttered finally breaking the quiet.  
“You know...this might seem unexpected to you, Potter, but even _people like me_ are human. Of course there are people that marry out of love. I...” his voice broke and Draco put the arms around his own gaunt frame as if he wanted to hug himself.  
“I did really love Astoria, you know...she was fifty percent of the small group of women I ever felt attracted to and she was way too good for me. It was just pure luck that I found a woman that I liked who also met wishes of my parents.”  
Draco took another sip from his glass before continuing his story.  
“I wasn’t done yet, Potter. This is shit you should have learned as a child coming from a pureblood family.”  
“Thank you, Draco. I almost forgot that I’m a fucking orphan.” Harry grumbled much less disgruntled that he was willing to show. Of course growing up without his parents still left some scars, but the wounds weren’t as fresh and sensitive as they were in his childhood.  
“You’re welcome, Potter.” smiled the blond sweetly before he made his way to the door leading inside the living room. “You also want another whiskey?” 

Harry nodded and waited as the other man tinkered with glasses and bottles inside the house.  
It wasn’t that he exactly liked Draco and he sure as hell didn’t trust him much further that he could throw him...but maybe he did grow onto him a little.  
He was still an arse...but he was good at giving head...and the way he got all ruddy-cheeked when he was into something made him think of Ron.  
Damn he missed Ron.  
Ron wouldn’t lecture him about pureblood history or the importance of the upkeep of proper school clothing in Hogwarts.  
Ron wouldn't lean so far away against the balustrade on some cold balcony and tell him about things that Harry didn’t care for. Ron’s warm shoulders would bump against his as they sat on their old ratty couch as he wittily commented the game on the radio.  
They'd drink beer not expensive whiskey and Harry would fall asleep knowing there was someone there who he could trust right behind the wall he pressed his back against. Feeling home and safe and loved.

Draco came back and pushed a glass in Harry hand before reclaiming his spot at the balcony railing.  
“Septima Malfoy's curse is one big reason why the Weasleys are so poor now.” he continued his story, crossing his legs and lighting another cigarette.  
“Bride prices can be pretty expensive and it’s still a very common way among the old families to secure real estate.It okay to have a few sons that you’ve gotta pay houses for if you’ve got also daughters that bring property back into the family. With no daughters though and a lot of male children that wanted to have a family, the Weasleys had a hard time financing all of them which led to them having less and less influence among the leading families.”  
Draco took another sip. "After this public rift between the two families and the several losses of members from both families due to duels the Malfoys moved from Ottery St.Catchpool to Flintshire to build this Manor leaving their old family residence go to ruins. So that's why it is be a bad idea for our sons to have a relationship...the Weasleys would never accept a Malfoy in their family. Even if one of them were a girl it would still be not a good choice.”

Harry shrugged.  
“Molly likes Scorpius. When he visited last summer he was too polite to say no when she made him do chores and Al does his tasks without complaining much when your son is so happily helping out.”  
he didn’t mention that Ron had spend several evenings playing chess with Scorpius and talking with him about his career wishes.  
Draco probably doesn’t want his son to become an auror, the kid should tell him on his own.  
“so...they just let him run with the other kids like that?”  
Draco sounded surprised. As if from his own childhood experience he didn’t expect people to actually not care much about his son’s family background and just...treat him as a normal child.

“He’s not like you, Draco.” Harry almost spilled his whiskey from the laugh erupting from his chest.  
“He’s not walking around insulting people after just meeting them or getting into fights just because he wants attention...”  
It almost looked as if Malfoy is pouting.  
“Honestly, he’s just a normal kid. He’s polite but also liked to play Quidditch with the other sprogs….and that’s because he thinks its FUN, Draco...not because of your stupid reasons like betting money or financial gamble or being cheered on by big masses...just a couple of kids playing for fun in the garden.”  
Harry emptied his glass and came to his feet.  
“Ron has a soft spot for him because he’s smart and likes chess...” he almost laughed at the surprise ghosting over Draco’s. “Ron always liked the smart ones…honestly it’s pretty funny seeing him doting on the kid and being all patient and fatherly while the actual father of the boy is probably the most likely candidate to publicly get in a row with Ron.”  
With that Harry turned to house.  
He really was done talking to Malfoy.  
“You up for another round before I go home?”  
“He called him an inbred...” muttered Draco, following him inside.  
“He said whatever he knew would hurt you the most. That’s how he fights.”  
“hm...”  
They reached bedroom and undressed. It was almost clinical.  
Draco stretched out cat-like in the bed with a sly smile. Hermione would probably say some like that he looked exquisite with his champagne skin against the black silken sheets. She always liked big words like that. Harry thinks he looks pretty hot on a superficial level...he’d look better when he didn’t have such a shitty personality though.  
“...that why he left you? ‘cause he knew it would hurt you the most?”  
“Shut up and turn around, Malfoy.” Harry grumbled carding his hand roughly through the blond hair before urging him to turn on his stomach. With growing interest he watched the other man gracefully follow his command.


	3. Chapter 3

In August Ron’s letters broke off suddenly.  
They’d become such constant in Harry’s life that it throws him off the train for a whole week and it took him a long talk with Neville (who’d slowly grown into Harry’s voice of reason, now that Ron is not there to remind him how to be human) and several emergency lunch breaks with Hermione to get back on track and notice that when their best friend writes them, normal people write back.  
Harry had been so busy with work and getting his shit together without his soul being anchored to Ginny and being offended about Ron’s impersonal letters that he didn’t even think about answering his friend.  
After finding out that Hermione hadn’t gotten a letter for two weeks in a row either. He decided that something must be wrong because Ron might be sometimes a little forgetful, but he’s loyal and likes to routinely keeping check of his family and friends. Ron would never stop communicating without a good reason.  
A good reason like Harry not answering his letters.

So on the third Sunday without a letter he sat down and read every single one and the more he was reading the more he found despair and disappointment hidden between the sentences. Harry could visualise his friend sitting in a kitchen that looked vaguely like the one at the Burrow raking through his hair and trying to come up with something that shows he cares but still doesn’t put too much pressure on Harry...because Ron always feels like he’s taking up too much of his time. He's always expecting people not to care if he’s there or not and Harry had told him so often that he cares. That he loves him like a brother… Ron usually just scoffed telling him that he has enough brothers.  
He doesn’t need more brothers and Harry’s not like them. It was like a punch in the liver the first time Ron said it. Harry needs Ron’s bluntness to tether him down to earth but sometimes it does leave some bruises.  
Harry knows Ron wants to be special, to be irreplaceable and to Harry he is..Appearently he is just not very good at showing it though. Instead he didn’t even show him enough care to write back. It makes him feel like the world’s biggest arsehole.  
So Harry made himself some tea and took out parchment and quill and put the pen to the paper and...there’s no words. He didn’t get past _”Dear Ron,”_. It’s like his brain was empty except of all that guilt and loneliness and his hand was paralysed from how fucking stupid he felt.  
He forgot how long he stared down on the empty paper and he wished Ron would just come home, so he could tell he him in person that he was sorry.  
Finally he gave up and balled up the parchment to throw it in the bin.  
Giving up on the night he drank a few beers and as he leaned back against the headboard of Ron’s bed he tried to remember when was the last time he slept in his own room.

At the beginning the bed had still smelled like Ron and it helped with his insomnia, but by now it just smelled like himself and it was more habit than anything else.  
It was probably not the most brother-like thing to masturbate in another bloke’s bed either.  
Harry didn’t care.  
It didn’t matter if he was burying his face into Ron’s pillow or wearing one of his friend’s knitted jumpers while hie rubbed himself raw. No one was there to judge him. He didn’t care that the faceless men in his fantasy featured freckled skin and easily could hold him down. Gentle, safe but powerful. Big callused hands and strong arms and legs...beautiful in a completely different, natural way to the carefully manufactured elegance of Draco.  
Harry didn’t let his partners take the reigns between the sheets. It felt like a curse to be in control at any time. He didn’t trust anyone enough.  
Especially not Malfoy or the muggle men he seeked out in clubs from time to time when Draco’s blood test results are too bad again for sex.  
Which they had been for weeks.  
Draco's hereditary poor health had put him in and out of the hospital for months and Harry didn’t even feel guilty when he discovered that he didn’t miss him. He didn’t care for him.  
He missed sex.  
He missed having a place to go on weekends and not being completely alone in an empty flat.  
He didn’t care about not seeing the person Draco Malfoy though.  
He wasn’t sure he’d miss him if he died.  
His life surely wouldn’t be affected by it too much.  
Harry could easily find another sexual partner and if it came to company he’d rather go see how Neville was doing in his new job as the Hogwarts’ headmaster than listen to another one of the blond’s boring lectures about pureblood history or the decline of aristocratic education in wizard Britain.

Harry wasn’t sure when he’d stopped to care about people...or if he ever cared for more than just the handful of people that he claimed as his surrogate family...Hermione, Ron, his children, Neville, Luna, the Weasleys...he did care in some way. He wanted the wizard world to be good and children and people to be safe and healthy...but he didn’t care about those people specifically.  
It was like a numbness that could only be pierced by some people.  
To be honest even those were tuned out for a big part of the day.  
Harry felt himself rarely wondering how his children were doing at Hogwarts during the day at work. He loved them but since they entered school they didn’t play a big role in his every day life any more. 

Harry didn’t go to work on Monday.  
He truly intended to. But as he woke up he couldn’t muster the energy to get up and stared at the ceiling for hours instead. His mind and heart felt so empty that he didn’t even have the power to listen to the news on the radio.  
It was the first time in years he called in sick.  
To be honest he wasn’t sure he cared about anything any more.  
On Wednesday Hermione stood at the foot-end of the bed and forced him to get up and take a shower.  
While he did she changed the bedding of Ron’s bed and cleaned up a little of the mess. The countless empty take-away containers, the mouldy tea cups, crusty whiskey glasses and empty beer bottles wandered into the trash and she put an air-refreshing spell on the room trying to get rid of the smell of sad human.  
Harry was wrapped in one of Mrs Weasley hand-knitted quilts and watched her work. He was too tired to feel ashamed of his own chaos, of the porn magazines that spilled over his best friend’s carpet and his own rancid self.  
“There’s something wrong.” he said and his throat feels raw from the lack of use.  
“Well…” Hermione huffed exasperatedly propping up the overflowing washing basket on her hip. “I’m glad you’re finally noticing _something_.”  
He shrugged.  
“Ron’s not writing any more.”


	4. Chapter 4

After Hermione was gone Harry tried to sleep.  
In his own bed because Hermione had told him that he had no right taking Ron’s bed. It didn’t feel like she was wrong, but being in his own bed which felt unfamiliar and cold in comparison he could find a good position. He rolled from one side to the other, but he just couldn't get rid of his restlessness.  
Things were still not okay.  
Ron hadn’t written for weeks and Harry felt like throwing up at the thought that he’d lost him. Than Ron finally decided that he had enough. That Harry was too selfish, too thoughtless, too used to doing things on his own and Ron had finally got his head straight and abandoned him.  
Around three in the morning he gave up.  
He went back into Ron’s room and dug around in Ron’s closet to find another maroon jumper, since Hermione had banished the one Harry had worn for months every night. According to her the piece of clothing was disgusting beyond saving and, though Harry missed it quite badly, he had to agree that it had been quite matted and its smell burned in the nose after he had taken a shower.  
Harry was just pushing aside another box of unmatched socks when a small glinting something almost feel down on the floor. 

Lucky for the deluminator Harry still had his seeker-like reflexes so the tiny artefact landed safely in his hand.  
Harry mumbled a curse under his breath. He remembered a time when Ron never left the house without the deluminator tugged into the pocked of his jeans. It had never been necessary after the war but he assumed Ron felt more secure knowing that he would be able to get to his friends as fast as possible in case they ever needed his help.  
When did the habit stop?  
When did Ron start thinking that they, that Harry didn’t need him any more?  
Lost in thought Harry clicked the switch a few times and let the ceiling light disappear and come back few times.  
He almost jumped backwards when Ron’s exhausted voice filled the room.  
“Come on, mate. You gotta get some sleep.” pleaded the deep baritone and Harry suddenly felt the fatigue in his bones.  
“Lie down mate...I’m going to get you some tea. Come on...careful.”  
Harry didn’t know who Ron was talking to, but it felt like he was talking to him and as he listened to snippets of Ron’s speech and sounds of boiling water he sat on the floor beside the bed, leaned his back against the frame and dozed off.

He wrote a letter to Ron the next morning.  
A short one that was born as the only surviving sibling of a ton of crumbled stillborn letters that now filled his paper basket.  
_Dear Ron. Please tell me you are alright. I’m worried. Love, Harry_

After a few days without an answer he got really drunk in a bar in London and woke up the next day in a strange bed with a strawberry blond man. The man didn’t laugh about Harry’s jokes and Harry thought he was kinda dumb but the sex was okay and it was better than staying at home and being constantly reminded how lonely he was.  
It smelled wrong in that Muggle home but the way the morning sun illuminated the red strands on the white pillow seems weirdly _right_.  
Things got busy in the office. There’s trouble along the channel coast and a bigger coven of dark wizards in Liverpool that’s slipping through the fingers of law time and time again. He could have used Ron there with him. Could have used his strategical talent and the way he kept an overview over the office so Harry could properly concentrate in his own. He was trying to train a few of his senior officers to take over some of the administrative work and instruction of the new recruits, but it was hard without his friend who’d always been able to sense his mood and make his surrounding work for them. It was hard to lead his department without a true ally. 

Luckily Crinkle and the Interwiz team took the first big case off his hands and the old wizard even left him a message from Ron. His friend was buried up to his big ears into an undercover case and especially since there were a few unexpected complications, he couldn’t write as of late.  
Harry shouldn’t worry and please also tell Ron’s Mum to stop writing howlers because it was really messing with his disguise and she was bringing her son and other people in danger by screaming through a muggle neighbourhood.  
Harry couldn’t stop from grinning as Crinkle told him, that Ron had scheduled his holidays during the summer, so he could see his family…which meant Ron would be home in a few months.  
Ron would come home again. In the last weeks it had felt like he lost his friend, but he was still alive and he hadn’t forgotten about Harry and he’ll come back at some point in a future.  
“Can you tell him, that I miss him and he’s not allowed to pull some dumb shit while I’m not around?” he requested the head of the international department and the old man chuckled and nodded before slowly shuffled back to his office again.  
Crinkle was ancient and Harry was sure in the next few years he’d finally retire, which meant that the position was free for Ron or one of his colleagues.  
Regarding his job Ron rarely did things just _because._. Harry had more and more the feeling that him having sex with their old school rival wasn’t the only, maybe not even the main reason for the sudden transfer. Crinkle had taken a liking for Harry’s best friend the first day of their training and though he didn’t keep tabs on Harry or other juniors he’d trained, he’d always made sure to stay in contact with Ron.  
Ron, with his fierce loyalty for his jobs and co-workers, his willingness to sacrifice himself and that he was good at strategies and juggling several cases and people’s needs without losing his head made him a pretty good fit for a leading position. Maybe, if Harry was really honest with himself, even a better fit than him.  
Harry always ended being in leading position because he couldn’t trust anyone else to do the job properly, but his friend just was a good organiser. He was good with people too. Scary sometimes because his analyses cut close to the bone, but Ron had a big heart and if you didn’t manage to piss him seriously off, he was usually a people pleaser.  
Harry spend the rest of the evening thinking about the possibility of Ron not leaving because he wanted to leave him but because he wanted to further his career… and somehow this made him feel less shitty. Maybe Ron didn’t actually leave him. Maybe he didn’t drive him away and it was just Harry’s fear of abandonment that had played tricks on him.  
As soon as the night came though, Ron’s tired and desperate voice filled the room and Harry knew his friend wasn’t okay and he was helpless and everything hurt...and he did nothing and fell asleep to Ron talking to a stranger.

Sometimes the deluminator stayed quiet when he clicked them in the night, when his loneliness became to much to bear.  
In those nights Harry didn’t sleep and stared at the ceiling of Ron’s room.  
Sometimes he got really drunk.  
If he could he went to a club to find company.  
Malfoy was doing worse again. He had sent an owl, that he wasn’t healthy enough for Harry to visit.  
Harry didn’t have it in him to sent him a _Get well soon_ card.  
A week after he sent the letter to Ron an unknown owl had landed clumsily on his breakfast table and he almost crashed his tea cup in the hurry to free the paper scroll from her talons.  
It was a letter from Neville. In his function as the Hogwarts headmaster his friend informed him that his son James was not respecting curfew and had been caught multiple times outside his dorm at night.  
Harry sent a letter back telling him James was just honouring an old family tradition and it was part of his culture.  
He also owled James that he definitively had to work on being more sneaky and it was a disgrace for both the Potter and the Weasley part of his blood that he got caught _several_ times. His ancestors would be rolling his grave and he expected James to do better. He refrained from sending James the letter as a howler though he was pretty sure his son would've loved it.  
It wasn’t until noon that finally, _finally_ Ron answered.

 _Dear Harry,  
I’m really happy you wrote me. Things have been quite hectic around here but I’m okay.  
I’m sorry if I worried you, cause I didn't write as much, mate. I kinda put my hand too far into something and got a little hurt, but I’m fine now. Don’t worry about me.  
Ron_  
Harry frowned and looked on the uneven letters. He remembered the way Ron’s voice in the deluminator had been so frantic the last nights and how he sounded anything but fine.  
He didn’t like how Ron’s writing looked too. Ron’s handwriting was positively messy and scratchy on a good day but this seemed like he’d been having difficulties holding a pen. There was blotches of ink and something unidentifed...black and crusty on the paper and it didn’t help a single bit to curb Harry’s worry and he told his friend so in a quite rushed letter before he had to go to the courtroom.

It was already almost eleven when he clocked out at work.  
Another talk with Crinkle hadn’t brought any new information about Ron’s well-being and Harry had an inkling that the old officer didn’t have the foggiest idea what was going on with his subordinates.  
Harry bought some Indian takeaway but when he looked at the steaming food in his styrofoam bowl he didn’t feel like eating.  
After two beers he made his way to the bedroom and changed into Ron’s pyjama trousers. They were too long for him but they were well-worn and soft.  
For a moment he twiddled the deluminator in his hand before clicking the switch.

With a soft hum of magic a blue ball of light gently floated through the air until it disappeared in his ribcage and deep intuition settled in his heart.

Ron needed _him_.

Now.


	5. Chapter 5

The world came harshly into focus with a stench of blood, rotting flesh and something awful that Harry couldn’t place. There was a lingering burn of magic in the air and something so revolting that it made the magical part deep inside him recoil in repugnance.  
He probably shouldn't be here without magical protection gear he thought and dismissed the possibility to come back with better equipment right away. Ron needed him.  
Squinting into the into the thick fumes wafting lazily through the air he saw the traces from a magical ritual. Different kinds of herbs were burned in little ceramic bowls clumsily painted with runes and there was a circle painted on the floor of the quite spacious kitchen dimly lit by the flickering lights of a microwave. In the middle of the circle was a heap of human, unmoving except for the weak breath filling the ribcage every few seconds.  
“Ron?!” Harry rasped, panic washing over him as he rushed closer to the person on the ground.  
The human pile was covered in a black-iridescent tar-like substance and a disgusting amount of black grubs the size of his forearm sluggishly wriggled on the drenched shirt and around the head.  
Harry felt like throwing up.

The black substance was glued to the head so much that it took Harry a moment to notice, that this person was smaller than his friend, that it wasn’t Ron who fighting for his life right there on the tiled floor of a Muggle kitchen.  
“Har...” gargled a weak voice from the shadows and Harry abandoned the person in favour of finding his friend.

Ron leaned exhausted against the wall between a kitchen chair and a fridge that was unfazed by all the chaotic magic in the room.  
His face almost glowed on the dark as pale as he was and the skin seemed to be almost translucent something dark and running through the veins bulging painfully under the skin.  
Harry was at his side before he could think about it.  
Ron was too weak to return his hug and...as Harry examined him closer, he wasn’t sure if he was able to, since where his arms should have been his friend sported several thick eel-like tentacles.  
He just leaned his head against his shoulder and cried black syrupy tears into the crook of Harry’s neck. The substance burned on Harry's bare chest, but he barely noticed it.  
“Y’re h’re...” sobbed Ron and Harry hurried to assure him that, of course, he was there and wouldn’t go anywhere which threw Ron into another crying fit.  
Holding Ron with one arm and carding his hand through the sweaty, red strands Harry became very much aware of the fact that he was just wearing pyjama trousers and his wand was still with his work gear at home.  
“thought y’ didn’t wan’ me ‘nymore…” rasped Ron against his skin and Harry just wants to wrap him in a blank and bring him home. Keep him for himself and make sure he’s cared for...no matter how bad he is at taking care of others. And it made him a little angry that Ron doesn’t understand how important he is. That he brought himself in danger _without_ Harry around.  
“Shut it, mate. We’re gonna take care of this mess. Where’s your wand?” he grunted gruffly and shifting the Weasley in his arms to access their surrounding.  
“Table.” muttered the redhead and his head get heavy on Harry’s shoulder.  
“No no no...I need you to stay awake, make...” Harry rocked him in his arm slightly to make sure he was still conscious as he blindly fumbled on the table top to get Ron’s wand.  
“H’rry...” Ron rasped again and he sounds so weak and helpless and it’s not what Harry is used to. Ron, even during the war, even when everything seemed hopeless and like they’d never manage long enough to grow into adulthood, had always been the strong one. The one to adapt the quickest, who kept them together and worked on keeping them emotionally capable and finding practical solutions.  
Ron usually was the one to take care of _Harry_. It was scary that he wasn’t able to do that now.  
“...just wanted to _help_...” whimpered Ron trembling under a wave of what must be excruciating pain. Some of the sickle-sized blisters on his skin started to bust open and oozed out more of the smelly black substance as Harry finally managed to send out an SOS-signal with Ron’s wand.

As soon as the Portuguese first responders arrive on the scene, things got quite blurry.  
It not a moment too early. They were barely able to stabilise Ron enough for transport and the unknown male person flat-lined them twice before they finally got him set-up in a hospital bed.  
Ron refused to lie down or even let go of Harry so they squished together in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs in the waiting hall as the head nurse fussed about them in reproaching Portuguese.  
In the early morning hours Crinkle, the Head of the Portuguese Heads of the Department for International Crime and Law Enforcement arrive followed by a small shifty man, that Harry expected to be a translator. Finding they resting in the same position. Ron’s still sleeping, but he he must have felt the presence of the arriving wizard since he looped the black arm-tentacles a bit more forceful around Harry ribcage.  
Merlin, this whole thing is a gigantic mess.

They asked Harry what happened and Harry doesn’t know.  
“I just came because Ron needed me.” he said and felt Ron react to the sound of his voice.  
“He was distressed and when I arrived he was covered in tentacles and coin-sized blistered.” he answered kind of truthfully with the weight of the deluminator in his the pocket of his black-stained pyjama trousers.  
“To be honest, I asked yesterday about his well-being, Mr. Crinkle, and you said he was fine. _THIS_ doesn’t seem _fine_ to me and I am not happy about the fact that this is how you’re treating my best man after he transferred to your department.” While he was talking became more and more aware how unhappy he was with the fact that Ron’s supervisor didn’t do his bloody job and supervised properly to the point that he at least _knew_ when his subordinates were in a life-threatening situation. That’s what health-supervision charms and the big charmed maps in the head office were for after all.  
“I’m not going to supervise every step of my men in their free-time. They deserve some privacy.” huffed Crinkle and sat down on one of white waiting room chairs beside them and crossing his locust-like legs.

It was an exhausting talk, with the small interpreter translating back and forth and nobody actually knowing what happened.  
Even the head healer, an elderly lady with a piercing voice, didn’t have the slightest idea what caused the condition. However she was able to dissolve the suspicion of the Portuguese Head Auror that Ron had caused the magical disease.  
“Emergency healer Facundo has described the scene as an inexpertly done healing ritual gone wrong.” the interpreter translated her shrill flurry of of words.  
Harry nodded. “For some reason, Auror Weasley thought he could deal with it himself and didn’t get help. I’m sure he wanted to help the man. He told me before he passed out.”  
he waited until the interpreter did his part of the conversation and watched the woman mirrored the head-nodding gesture.  
She answered and he waited or the translation and so tediously they made their way through the conversation.  
At some point Ron had opened his eyes, but he stayed quiet mostly just sometimes throwing out short, hoarsely sentences when asked directly. Obviously fighting to focus enough, clearly in pain Ron did still his best to do his job and Harry was torn between pride, worry and the seething anger that his friend had to suffer like that.

The talk ended with a quite hectic departing of the everyone except of the Healer when Ron started vomiting more of the black foul-reeking substance on the white-tiled hospital floor. The larvae-like creatures were smaller than the ones that had surrounded the other still name-less man.  
It didn’t make them less frightening.  
The healer called her team and they worked around them, pushing a bucket under the redheads nose to stop the black tar-like sick from sloshing over the floor. Gently they coaxed Ron to loosen his freshly-acquired appendages enough for Harry to stand up and lead him to a bed in a more quiet room.  
They obtained a venous access at his neck, because they didn’t know how to work with the multitude of tentacle arms, and attached a drip to it that finally stopped Ron's vomiting.  
He fell asleep only a few minutes later.  
Harry was drenched in the gluey-black stuff, his skin was red and irritated under the substance and his eyes burned from the smell. He didn’t have the power to protest when one of the healers pushed him out of the room and a sparely-furnished shower room.

When he came back into Ron’s room, freshly showered and wearing white robes over his bandaged body, Hermione looked up from her book.  
“Hello, Harry.” she said softly and looked at him in a confusing mix of worry and indignation.  
Harry just shrugged helplessly and took the seat across of her on the other side of the bed.  
Ron looked like he descended out of a nightmare.  
Too still even in slumber. Dark veins under translucent skin, black tentacles limply surrounding his thin upper body and his dry mouth open in silent agony. Someone had propped him up in a half-seated position to make sure he wouldn't choke on his own vomit.  
It seemed as if the magic and life drained out of Ron more and more with every drop of the dark smelly substance that oozed from the blisters on his skin.  
“I don’t know what to do.” Harry admitted avoiding her gaze as he feather-like touched the gaunt shoulder of his sleeping friend.  
“I can’t be without him.”


End file.
